


I Love You, Don't You Mind?

by anangel



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Cute, Fluffy, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, YouTube, YouTuber Harry, YouTuber Louis, YouTuber Niall, a little smudge of ni, only a tiny mention to z and li, whiney piney boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-17
Updated: 2015-04-17
Packaged: 2018-03-23 10:16:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3764359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anangel/pseuds/anangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Louis are vloggers who pine over each other. It's kinda cute.</p>
<p>Title from Me by The 1975.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Love You, Don't You Mind?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [acetheticlouis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/acetheticlouis/gifts).



> Hiya! This is my first ever time doing a fic exchange and I'm really excited! This is also my first time using multimedia on ao3 so I hope it works and if not, I apologise. I hope the person who I gifted this work to enjoys it and I hope I did the prompt justice! :)
> 
> \- B x

[Click here to listen to the playlist 'I Love You, Don't You Mind?'](http://8tracks.com/bethieg/i-love-you-don-t-you-mind?utm_medium=trax_embed)

 

 

♡

 

He’s delaying on purpose, he knows, but he can’t quite bring himself to care when it’s probably just turned midnight and the sounds all around him are fading into smoke. Fireworks are going off right in his line of view, just above the rooftop, so he keeps his eyes on those and tries to look like someone who doesn’t want to be bothered or spoken to.

 

He can see the fireworks so clearly, the blur of winter and star and the chemicals twirling and reflecting like the tails of comets, so fast yet in slow motion. He can see the way the shards come away and brake into meteor showers, supernovas, the beams flitting to one point before they crash and burn and it’s all over. Like stars dying out. Louis is still shivering.

 

The snow is spinning. His eyes go heavy with tiredness as he watches the sky. The snowflakes becomes a haze of white light after a while, a sheet of melted star that falls upon the lit up sea-front street. He never imagined that anywhere could look so bright but so dark all at once, so heavenly yet hellishly cold. He wonders whether it’s safe to set fireworks off in weather like this. Probably not. It really is freezing. And he feels gravely conned by the fact that Brighton is not at all as bright as one may have expected or as the name of it suggests. But somehow it is, if only for a few moments after the snowflakes blur into nothingness. Moments when this small patch of world becomes a snow globe and the silvery moonlight trickles from the sky and casts bars of brightness across the ground.

 

He shuffles up the garden path, his trunk held over his head to shield his hair from the mini storm of snow swirling hurricane. He knows that if his mum were here, she would chastise him about damaging all of the tech equipment he has in there, but he’s a grown lad and she’s not here, so. When he reaches the awning, he digs a cigarette out of his back pocket and leans against the pink wall of the house, one foot against it. He’s already smoked most of the pack and he only bought it an hour ago. He listens as a door opens somewhere a bit further down the street and laughter trickles out into like night, like music.

 

The sounds of the waves brushing against the Pier are soft and far away as if they’ve been travelling for lightyears and have only just made it to him. But it all seems so close still. He lets his head fall back against the wall and the sound waves thump erratically into his skull. He assumes Niall is holding a party, most of his neighbours are. And it’s funny, since Louis assumed most of the people living here would be pensioners, not young twenty-something year old video bloggers. The cigarette smoke lights his body on fire when he inhales, his bones igniting like a struck match. The chemicals move through his blood, the same chemicals in fireworks and the same chemicals in stars, making his heart beat a little faster. He still feels frozen and he almost misses home. Niall appears in the doorway, his face instantly reddened by the winter cold and Louis can tell he’s been drinking. His eyes seem bluer than he remembers, which is new. Louis drops his cigarette on the ground. It fizzles out once it collides with the slush, a tiny chemical star that crashes and burns.

 

He walks into the hallway and doesn't bother taking his shoes off, knowing Niall could care less. He can’t see much, just shadows across the walls like bluish pink smoke and something that feels like his heart thumping in his ears but is probably music. He stops when he reaches a doorway, bodies tracing the walls like shadow puppets, laughter and voices breaking through the music every now and again.

 

And yeah, that’s the first time he sees him. A boy, he thinks. Yes, a boy, dancing on his own in the middle of the small room. He’s lit up by the moon and edged in gold lamplight. He moves like floating, unearthly.

 

He doesn’t even know Niall has a housemate. He doesn’t even know who this boy is or what they will become.

 

The room is but dim light and pale, pale shadows and muffled vinyl. Music like the beating of a heart, like stirring feelings and warm bodies and bated breath. _Breathe_. He recognises some of the people here, almost all of them are semi-famous YouTubers. He’s met with Zayn and Liam a couple of times at gatherings, although he doesn’t plan on talking to them. He watches over someone’s shoulder as the boy dances, itching for the taste of cigarette smoke but too transfixed to move. His hair is sleep tousled and lion wild, his skin translucent as if it were lit up from the inside out by moon, dusted in pale blue veins that look like spiderwebs and small pieces of ocean. Outlandish and delicate. His eyes are bright and deep ocean green. God, Louis feels like a stalker.

 

After a while, the boy notices him watching and Louis feels caught. Then the boy glides over to him and smiles, waiting expectantly and putting all of his weight onto Louis when he clumsily stubbles forward with a soft release of breath. _Oops_. And Louis just thinks breathe, breathe. He wants to speak but his mouth is thick as if it’s full of stars or his tongue is made out of cotton wool. His finger tips burn and he feels like an idiot.

 

The boy leans his head back against Louis’ chest and they sway to the washed out sounds of a record by a band Louis can’t quite remember. _Hi_ , is what he says to the boy. Of all the things he could say. Of all the compliments he could give. He feels pathetic and thrown off balance and the room feels like a slow moving carousel. But the boy just laughs. Laughs, laughs, laughs. He laughs like Louis is the funniest person in the whole entire world.

 

Louis feels like he’s just ran a mile on the moon. Like something needed. He has never been so in love with life as he is in this moment.

 

♡

 

@Louis_Tomlinson: @Harry_Styles Fancy going ballroom dancing ?

@Harry_Styles: @Louis_Tomlinson I say we should old chap… Away to it now??

 

♡

 

They’ve only known each other for almost a week when Harry suggests they do a video together. The reaction that there has been to Louis featuring in Harry’s vlogs is by all means positive. Their respective audiences love that they have became friends. _Friends. Just friends_. Not that Louis has a problem with being just friends. Harry’s a great friend. He laughs at all of his jokes. Every single one.

 

They decide to film some footage for a video to go along with the music cover Niall has been planning since the beginning. Really, it’s sort of an excuse for Louis to look at Harry a bit more. Maybe it’s not good for him, pining over Harry like this but, still. Louis has an addictive personality and Harry is just another addiction. He tries not to care.

 

They get wrapped up in clothing to go out and face the weather. There is no way Harry could look more adorable if he tried. He’s wearing a leavers hoodie which is much too big for him and a knitted pink hat pulled tight over his curls. He’s stolen Louis’ scarf and Louis pretends not to notice just to indulge him (or himself), even though his heart is beating at a thousand miles a minute because there’s something so good about seeing Harry wearing that stupid Rovers scarf- he just. It feels like the world is out to get him. Sometimes he feels afraid that Harry doesn’t actually exist and he’s just something he made up, even though he knows he would never be capable of even thinking up someone like him.

 

♡

 

Harry watches as Louis smiles softly, looking out towards the empty road ahead of them before glancing back at him again. His blue eyes are bright beneath the light of the storm. Ocean blue laced with white, white sea foam on a morning shore. There's no other car for miles, only just a twinkling of headlights in the distance, just like stars. The horizon is heavy grey, a dusty and smokey atmosphere. Louis whispers something to him about the band that’s on the radio, a sarcastic comment about indie music. All he ever does is joke, his eyes crinkling the way they do every time. And then he laughs, and his eyes are that same sea blue of homesick hearts. Bright, bright, bright.

 

The slow strains of music are still pouring out from the radio like honey, and the words settle into the space between them and stick to the interior, something soft, something harmless. A love song. Pebbles snap beneath the rubber tires and the rain pelting down onto the roof of the car makes everything outside feel like a lucid, slow dream. So far away. Behind Harry’s eyelids, it's warm and all he can see is Louis. All he can feel, or think, or breath. Oh how he laughs, and it's the best song Harry has ever heard.

 

When they reach a place that looks so familiar, like somewhere they passed so long ago, Louis stops the car and runs out. Harry wonders _why here_ but doesn’t question it. He would never know that Louis was simply making the journey as long as he could so that he could just sit with him, be with him for a while, without everyone else. Yeah, and now he’s running away from him. Harry just adds it to the mental list of _quirky Louis things_ he started making the day they met.

 

But then they’re so close, incredibly close in fact. Running. The rain is falling down in big, hard drops and Harry laughs, very loudly, as he races after Louis. His eyelashes are growing thick with rainwater and the whole world is shifting into an up close blur. His body is _shaking_ with laughter, not just from the cold. Louis crowds in against him. Harry somehow feels warm.

 

The pine trees are making a canopy above their heads and it’s at that moment that Harry realises it probably wasn’t the most intelligent idea to film in this weather. But, here they are. The rain is soaking through their clothes and Harry should have worn a waterproof. There are a lot of things that he should have done but didn’t do, is what Harry realises. Just because Louis is Louis, he offers his coat to Harry, pulling it off his shoulders and just- Harry doesn’t know.

 

Harry shoves back against his chest, telling him, “don’t be so bloody silly, Lou.” Louis stumbles back a few steps, surprised. His blue eyes are wide with amusement. And he just stands there, staring at Harry with this look on his face that Harry doesn’t understand. Harry blinks against the rain, his heart beating so fast that he can hear it over the rainfall. He doesn’t know how long he can handle feeling like he’s floating away even though he’s right here, smothered by feelings. Things he doesn’t understand and doesn’t know if he ever will.

 

And then, as if in sudden motion, Louis is tickling his ribs, his heart. Touching. He’s gripping Harry under the armpits and laughing and wet hair is dripping into his eyes. Harry grins as if he doesn’t have control of his face because he doesn’t, not really, when it comes to Louis. The rain pelts down in little shards of ice that slip through the gaps in the leaves. But he’s got a small fire inside of him, somewhere between his ribs, the embers fluttering through his bloodstream. Louis wants to make him laugh like this for the rest of his life.

 

Harry feels like he’s burning up in all the places where Louis touches him. His heart is in his throat because Louis is giving him this look. It’s a look that he wouldn’t ever think of Louis doing, something serious, important almost. His eyes are wild, electric. He’s just staring, watching Harry, whilst the whole world tilts to drag him closer. When did he get so close? Harry is trying to keep his breathing steady but it’s hard when Louis is looking at him like this. _Breathe_ , he tells himself. Louis’ attention is soft and sort of blurry, flitting between his eyes and his mouth. It feels as if oxygen doesn’t exist and motion is suspended. And then, he’s gone.

 

“Race you back,” Louis calls out behind him. And just like that, the moment is gone as if it never existed. Like it was all just coming to this point and suddenly it’s burnt out. Harry doesn’t mind. He tells himself so as he adds ‘minding that Louis didn’t do something’ onto the list of things he should have done but didn’t do.

 

♡

 

When Louis watches the footage back of their newest collaboration, he feels like a stupid, obvious person who can’t control his reactions. He feels the blood rushing to his cheeks and his heart pounding in his ears. It’s just. When Harry touched his hand, he couldn’t help but smile and he just needed a few moments to gain his composure. Just this small gesture. This high five. To Louis, it felt like electricity, so soft and gentle yet violent and buzzing. So what if he blushed into the wall and quite obviously swallowed down as much oxygen as humanly possible. It’s not like it means anything. But, judging by the comments underneath, Louis is pretty much done for. _Everyone_ knows. It’s like they’re seeing inside his skull.

 

He mostly just watches Harry for the rest of the video. He can’t help it, it’s like his eyes are just drawn to him no matter what. And then come the dizzying feelings. They filmed it right near a window, the light washing into the frame and striking at the dust in the air. It softens the edges of Harry’s face and lights the loose strands of his hair on fire. His hair is tucked into a beanie and he’s thrown on an old band tee but he’s this kind of beautiful that’s so effortless it’s frustrating. It’s frustrating to Louis that even when they’re arguing, he can’t help but let his mind ebb into thoughts about how much he likes Harry’s face. When Harry laughs, the sunlight transforms it into a dream-like sound. He’s either always smiling or trying not to smile or blushing like mad.

 

Louis tries to ignore everything, closing the tab and opening Tumblr. Only, his whole dashboard is flooded with gifs of him biting Harry’s shoulder and the longing looks and, God, it even makes Louis feel like he’s intruding on something just by looking at them. God only knows what his viewers think. What they _know_. And, judging by everything he’s seeing online, they know way too much.

 

And it’s not like Harry doesn’t act the same way. But that’s just the way Harry is with everyone.

 

Just for second, he wonders about them. About their whole friendship and just, them. He wonders when he’s just going to give up and confess that he’s completely done for, head over heels, burnt out. He wonders whether Harry is going to catch on, whether he’s going to actually do anything. All that he really knows is that, from the moment they met, Louis knew Harry was special. Different, something good.

 

He wonders when Harry is going to join the steadily growing list of people who know.

 

♡

 

@Harry_Styles: @Louis_Tomlinson I’m sitting on the sofa opposite you…you look sexy.

@Louis_Tomlinson: @Harry_Styles Hahaha I’m being slowly seduced by your curls.

@Harry_Styles: @Louis_Tomlinson I know… That was my plan.

 

♡

 

The music washes over him through his headphones and Harry is trying to forget everything for a little while. Like, trying to forget the most draining thing that’s ever happened to him- is happening right now. Yeah, trying not to be in love with someone takes a lot of effort. And every song that comes through just so happens to paint these perfect images of Louis in his mind, soft and lovely. Since when did he have so many love songs stored on here?

 

He’s sighing deeply as the next song starts up and he lets his eyes begin slip shut when he sees the bedroom door crack open a fraction, golden light melting in from the landing. A figure enters the room, a change of colour in the dark that’s only just visible. Harry knows exactly who it is. It’s Louis (of course it is), all sleep tousled with his hair matted to the side of his head. He’s so silly. So endearing.

 

“I know you’re awake.” That’s what Louis says, in this voice that sounds like Harry has just pretended to be sleeping even though his heart is beating out of his chest and he swears Louis can hear it. He can probably see his eyes get wider in the dark too.

 

“I know. What?” His headphones are lying right next to him, after he ripped them out of his ears when he heard Louis come in. He feels like putting them back in and rolling over and going to sleep. He feels like telling Louis to go away even though he doesn’t want him to. He can see him standing there at the side of the bed, playing with the string on his pyjama bottoms and it’s making his nerve endings prickle. _Stop it, Louis_. “What do you want?”

 

And maybe that came out a little bit more vicious than he intended it to because he can see Louis sort of flinch and his eyes turn into these wide pale blue moons. He can only just make out Louis putting his hands up in surrender, the shadows slipping through his fingers and turning purple. “Couldn’t sleep,” he mutters to the floor, his voice smudged with sleep and sounding deeper than usual. Harry feels hazy.

 

And then there’s just this silence that’s settled deep between them because Harry doesn’t know what he’s implying or what to say. So he just sits there, hoping Louis thinks he’s fallen asleep so that he goes back to his own room. It’s this sort of silence that leaves you choked up and begging yourself not to breathe too loudly. It’s heavy and sticky and- oh God. The dim buzzing of music floats out of his headphones, the faint sounds of _Girls Just Wanna Have Fun_ hurting Harry’s ears. His cheeks burn and he turns the iPod off, flinging it into a pile of clothes lying on the floor opposite the bed. He hopes Louis hasn’t heard.

 

Only, of course he heard. And Louis’ laugh is so much louder at this time of night. Harry is never going to live this down. Louis flops down on the blankets, the mattress dipping under his weight. He’s laughing so hard that Harry worries he’ll wake Niall. Harry sort of wants to smother Louis with a pillow, or maybe smother himself with a pillow. But underneath all of the embarrassment, he feels like he just wants to make Louis laugh some more. Even if it is at his own expense.

 

When Louis calms down, rubbing salt water from under his crinkled eyes, he exhales as if he’s just ran a mile. The shadows settle deep into his laugh lines and the moonlight strikes at his features. Then, when Harry thinks he’s going to make a snarky comment, he surprises him again.

 

Louis sits up and leans back on his hands, pushing his chest out and tilting his head to the side. He’s looking at Harry a certain way but he’s unsure of what it means. Suddenly, Louis is serious. Well, as serious as he can be whilst being the way he is.

 

“Are you wearing my top?” Louis says. He’s licking his lips the way he does when he’s trying not to smile.

 

“I’m asleep.”

 

“No you’re not.”

 

“I am.” Harry hides his head in the pillow and feels like dying. “G’night Louis,” he says into the linen as Louis finally takes the hint to _get the hell out_. Harry can hear him laughing as he walks down the corridor.

 

When he’s sure Louis is gone, he slowly opens his eyes and sees the pale aqua glow of his digital clock, it’s 11:11. If he wished for Louis, no one needs to know.

 

♡

 

“What’s your favourite thing about Louis?” Yeah, you can tell that it was Louis who picked the questions for this Q&A. And if everyone who watches these videos can already tell what Harry is feeling, he might as well have some fun with it. Go hard or go home, right?

 

“My favourite thing about Chop Suey,” he looks at Louis, who looks like he either wants to murder him or laugh at the absurd nickname, “is his eyelashes.” It’s true. Especially when they’re frozen together into points from the cold. He never does listen when Harry tells him to wrap up warm.

 

Niall absolutely cackles at that, slipping in between intakes of breath, “very masculine.”

 

And maybe Louis just saw the opportunity and took it. Or maybe he actually just wants to ruin Harry’s life because he turns to Harry and says, “Well my favourite thing about Curly is that he’s a girl who just wants to have fun.”

 

And he’s never wanted to kill someone and kiss someone before. But he’s leaning more towards ‘kill’ when he sees the multitude of videos, when on Tumblr later that day, of random clips of his terrible dancing put along to that wretched song. _Thanks, Lou._

 

♡

 

@voicesnumb: @Louis_Tomlinson What’s the one thing you love most about Harry?x #HLQandA

@Louis_Tomlinson: @voicesnumb His curls or his smell ;) x

 

♡

 

Harry wakes up in a cold sweat. That was Louis’ face he was dreaming of. He can’t control it, every thought waking and subconscious is just an endless stream of _Louis, Louis, Louis_ and- he just can’t take it anymore. It’s a creature in his bloodstream chewing him up, leaving him buzzing and his veins thrumming with lightening and thunder. Leaving the itch to act out and scream out recklessly that, _yes Louis, I love you, do you have a problem with that?_

 

He can’t remember the dream exactly, can’t quite recall what happened. It’s not like he hasn’t had dreams like this before. Only, strangers, faceless people kissing him just so he can feel something. Maybe he just likes the ache in his chest whenever Louis looks at him a certain way. He aches for something, anything, for Louis to take him into a dark room and stare with him with all the lights off and maybe just listen to him breathe for a while.

 

The knowledge that Louis is under the same roof but in a different room, is painful, this stretch of space floating between them. It’s so easy to joke about it all on camera and in the daylight, laughing as if he isn’t feeling it all so heavily and overwhelmingly as Louis touches and laughs and hugs him. It’s when he’s left with his own dangerous thoughts in the night that it’s hard to ignore. He sometimes tricks himself into believing that Louis feels the same way.

 

Maybe it’s been this way since Harry began tricking himself into believing that Louis was going to kiss him every minute they come into contact. He presses his ear to the wall which separates them, paper thin beneath his finger tips. He knows how to tell when Louis is sleeping, his soft snoring filtering through the cracks in the wall. But he’s not. Harry can hear the steady in out of Louis’ breathing beating against the room, it’s the breathing he does when he’s thinking. Harry wants to know what he’s thinking about. He pretends Louis is thinking about him because it helps him sleep better.

 

He looks up at the ceiling, watching the way the moonlight casts shadows of light from behind the blue curtains across the pale surface, waves of light that remind him of the colour of Louis’ eyes. He wants to go back to sleep more than anything, but he knows it’s going to be one of those nights.

 

On the other side of the wall, Harry can hear movement, soft and muffled by the carpet. It’s loud in his ears. The bedroom door cracks open and Louis is there. Harry doesn’t say a word. He feels the bed sheet slip away from him, immediately feeling the urge to grasp it and pull it up to his chin when the cold air settles over him. He feels it when Louis slides into the bed and presses his chest to Harry’s back, locking his arms around him and pulling him into the warmth. He feels Louis’ breath ghosting across the back of his neck. It sounds like he’s thinking again, like Harry can _feel_ his thoughts.

 

“You.” Louis’ voice sounds tired and thick of sleep, he says it in reply to a question Harry didn’t ask but they both knew had been hanging in the air since the day they met. He knows what this means, they both do.

 

“Love you.” Harry let’s it slip out of his mouth carelessly. He didn’t imagine it would feel this way, so casual and as if it had been all this time. Unlike the romantic films he’s obsessed with. It just feels- _obvious._

 

“Thought you were sleeping.”

 

“I’m never sleeping.”

 

“I know.”

 

And that’s that.

 

♡

 

@Louis_Tomlinson: My relationship with my bed can be beat by no other !

@Harry_Styles: @Louis_Tomlinson Well this is awkward… Should you tell them or should I?x

@Louis_Tomlinson: You heard it here first ! Bed is my new nickname for Harry :) x

@Harry_Styles: What he’s trying to say is that we are together! Thanks for the support :) :) All the Love!!x

 

♡

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you thought! x


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